Harry Potter and the Stoner's Stone
by RachelisGiraffe
Summary: A rewrite of the film. Crackfic. Total nonsense.
1. Your Mum Has Hairy Bludgers

It was the middle of the night. All of Pivet Drive were asleep, the street lit by the faint moonlight and the many glowing steetlamps. It was particularly quiet this evening, almost eerily so. An owl, perched apon a fence, hooted lightly, glancing around the street nervously. Suddenly, a tabby cat leapt from behind the fence, tackled the bird to the ground, and after a moment of screeches and struggles, the owl lay still on the pavement. They cat grinned, oddly enough, and dragged its meal back behind the fence. It ripped a wing off and carried it up to the top of the fence, chewing happily and looking around the dark street as though waiting for something.

Suddenly, a figure appeared at the end of the road. As it approached, it took the form of a man. This man was dressed in strange robes, with a pointed hat atop his silvery-white hair, which flowed down his back and matched his long beard. His half-moon glasses, resting on the tip of his crooked nose, shimmered in the street's dull lights.

From his robes he withdrew what appeared to be a lighter. Slowly, he held it up above him and flipped open the cap. Then, a nearby lamp's light seemed to fly from the bulb and into the lighter. One by one, the orbs of lamp light flew into the bizzare contraption until the street was completely covered in darkness. Satisfied, the man took the lighter down and held it. He reached into his robe and pulled out a large cigar, putting it to his lips.

The cat, sitting behind him with the owl wing dangling from its jaw, made a muffled meow. The man turned and grinned at the little tabby cat.

"I should have known that you would be here," he chuckled, igniting the end of the cigar with his magical lighter, "Professor McGonagall."

The cat made a sudden transformation. In what appeared to be a slow and painful process, the cat became a woman. She was old, like the man, and had glasses on the tip of her hooked nose. She wore a green robe and black pointed hat, and she reached up with bony hands to remove the wing from her mouth. She spat a feather on the asphalt and took another bite of the wing, chewing slowly.

"Good evening, Professor Dumbledore," she said after swallowing.

The man took a drag from the cigar and began walking, motioning for her to follow, at which she scurried behind him and took another bite of the wing.

"Are the rumors true, Albus?" she inquired.

"I'm afraid so, Professor," he replied solemnly, taking another drag. "The good and the bad."

Her eyes widened. "So, he was pregnant?"

"Yes," he sighed. "After seven months of managing to hide it from the world, it turns out he was pregnant after all."

"And the mother?"

"He said that it was either the Italian stripper from the club or the mailman," he said.

Professor McGonagall nodded slowly, chewing the wing again. "Now, about tonight. Where is the boy?"

"With Hagrid."

"Hagrid?" gasped the woman. "But Albus, remember what happened last time?"

The old man put out a hand to silence her. "That was an accident, McGonagall. Accidents happen."

"He dropped the poor child!"

"He survived, didn't he?" said Dumbledore, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. "That's all that matters."

She nodded. "I just feel bad for the Longbottom child. First his parents, now this? Ah well," she said, licking the last feather in her hand. "You think Hagrid can do this one right?"

"I would trust Hagrid with my life," he said, then, after a pause, added, "Just so long as we weren't in a flying motorcycle hundreds of feet above the ground."

The two began laughing so loudly, one of the lights in a house's window turned on for a moment, then flipped back off. They tried to quiet eachother down with shushes, but they were already in tears. McGonagall began choking on the feather, falling on the floor in mad laughing gags, while Dumbledore held his cigar away from him, coughing and chuckling and bent over as though about to throw up.

Suddenly, the two stopped laughing completely and looked upward, for a sound like a motor was growing louder. They saw a headlight growing larger and brighter and falling closer to the ground. Finally, a motorcycle appeared from the light, and it stopped beside them on the street, the headlight flickering off. On the vehicle was a giant man with a long, tangled beard and a moleskin overcoat. He grinned and dismounted his flying machine.

"Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall," he greeted, nodding to each.

"Any problems, Hagrid?" asked Dumbledore.

"No, sir," replied the large man. "Little tyke fell asleep as we was flying over Bristol."

"_Was?_" hissed McGonagall.

"Er, sorry, I meant were," stuttered Hagrid, staring wide-eyed at Dumbledore.

The man had reached into his robe and pulled out a long whip. "Tsk, tsk, Hagrid," he said. "What have I told you about bad grammar around the headmaster?"

"I'm so sorry, sir," he muttered, tears forming in his eyes. "Please, I didn't realize. I'm sorry, sir." He fell to the ground, shaking the nearby mailboxes, and began kissing Dumbledore's feet.

He sighed and put the whip away. "Get up, you great brute," he snapped, kicking at Hagrid's face. "Don't you dare speak such foul grammar in my pressence again. Do you understand?"

"Yes sir," he said, standing up and wiping his nose on his sleeve.

"So, where's the boy?" asked McGonagall.

Hagrid hurried to the motorcycle and reached into the basket, pulling out a bundle wrapped in a thick blanket. He handed it to Dumbledore and stepped back.

McGonagall hovered over Dumbledore, trying to get a peek of the baby. He began walking, and she followed, Hagrid trailing behind.

"Is it safe, Albus?" she whispered. "Leaving the boy with these people? I've watched them all day. They're the worst sort of Muggles. The mother looks just like a horse and always wear these skimpy little black dresses and chains, a bit like what I wore to the dance club last Saturday, and the father is so horribly fat that he can barely move around the house without taking out a wall. And the little baby boy's room is covered with posters of naked women, Albus."

He chuckled. "I see why you were spying on them."

She blushed. "Really, Albus, there must be someone else."

"Sadly, they are the only family he has."

"He'll be famous," pointed out McGonagall. "Every child in our world will know his name. Drawings of him will be posted on stamps and holiday greeting cards."

"And it's better that he grows up away from all of that," he said. "At least until he is ready."

Dumbledore bent down and set the bundle on the welcome mat of the house they had stopped in front of. McGonagall resisted the urge to smack his rump as it rose before her. He stood up and looked at Hagrid, who was unsuccessfully trying to force himself not to cry.

"Now, Hagrid," said Dumbledore soothingly. "It's not really goodbye, after all."

The big man nodded and wiped his nose again. Professor McGonagall found it difficult not to let a tear escape as she watched Albus place an envelope on the blanket. It was addressed to the Dursleys at 4 Privet Drive. Dumbledore stood and began stepping back into the shadows.

"Good luck," he whispered, "Harry Potter."

As they were about to fade into the darkness and escape, the baby's eyes flew open and he began screaming and crying. In a panic, the three figures darted down the street, Hagrid hopping on his motorcycle and riding off while the professors flew into the woods. All through the street, windows illuminated and faces appeared at doorways as the child screamed on and on. The door the baby was before opened and a skinny, horse-faced woman in a red corset and panties stepped outside. She blinked sleepily at the howling child, kicked it, watched it roll over the step and land with a thud on the concrete, then slipped back inside satisfactorily as the baby quieted and silence resumed in Privet Drive.


	2. Love Your Mum's Sugar Quills

Ten years later, Harry found himself dreaming about a unicorn. The unicorn often visited his subconsious mind, and he talked to Harry and understood Harry in a way that no one had ever done. His name was Chichi, and he was a beautiful horse of all colors, with a sparkling horn protruding from his head.

As Harry was conversing with Chichi in the vast, sunny field, a loud pounding suddenly interrupted him. The field and the unicorn vanished, and Harry found himself staring at the inside of his eyelids.

"Up!" screamed Aunt Petunia. "Get up! Now!"

His eyes opened reluctantly, and he reached out to grab his glasses. The tape keeping the two large circles of maginifying glass together was falling off. He put them on his face and blinked. He was no longer in the mystical field with his unicorn friend; he was back in the tiny cupboard beneath the stairs on 4 Privet Drive.

A stomping sound billowed from above him, and little flakes of the cieling fell into his hair. "Wake up, Potter!" shouted the unmistakable voice of his cousin, Dudley. "We're going to the zoo!"

Harry sighed and slid off his little cot, pushing open the door, finding himself being shoved back inside by Dudley, and reappearing in the hallway only to trudge into the kitchen. He immediately went to the stove and found the pan already hot. He put down a few strips of bacon as Petunia hissed, "Try not to burn anything."

"Yes Aunt Petunia," he mumbled.

The woman was wearing a rather ghastly green top that was too high and too low-cut for a woman that old to wear, and she had a green short skirt to match. She put her hands over her son's eyes and guided him into the living room, saying, "I want everything to be perfect for my Dudley's special day!"

Harry rolled his eyes and scooped the bacon onto a plate.

"Hurry up!" boomed a deep voice. "Bring my coffee, boy."

"Yes Uncle Vernon."

Harry had barely noticed his uncle sitting in the chair at the table, though he wasn't that difficult to notice. He was morbidly obese with a small head and a purple face, and a grey mustache in the shape of an S. He was a horribly ugly man, and as far as Harry knew, he had always been this way. He just sat around the house, smoking cigarettes and eating.

In the living room, Petunia had uncovered Dudley's eyes to reveal piles and piles of gifts wrapped in different papers, filling up most of the room. Petunia giggled happily, but Dudley looked unnamused. He turned and snapped, "How many are there?"

"Thirty-six. Counted them myself," said Vernon proudly.

"Thirty-six?" screamed the fat child. "But last year I had thirty-seven!"

"Yes, yes, b-but, some of them are quite a bit bigger than last year," stuttered a panic-stricken Uncle Vernon.

"I don't care how big they are!" snarled Dudley.

Petunia grabbed her son by the shoulders and said, in a small voice, "Now, dear, this is what we'll do. We're going to go out, and we're going to buy you two new presents. How's that?"

Harry rolled his eyes and set the cup of coffee before Vernon.

After breakfast, they scrambled outside to the car, Dudley jumping in back and complaining that his sweater itched. Harry reached for the door, but a fat hand grabbed his wrist. He turned to see Uncle Vernon, sitting in his wheelchair and glaring down at him.

"Now I'm warning you, boy," he hissed. "Any funny business, any at all, and you'll have no meals for a week. Now get in."

When they finally arrived at the zoo, Harry followed the Dursleys as they made their way to the reptile house. One of the first exhibits they stopped at was that containing a giant snake, resting peacefully on a warm rock. At least, it was until Dudley pressed his pink nose against the glass barrier.

"Make it move," he commanded.

Petunia wheeled Vernon over so he could smack the glass with a giant hand and shout, "Move!"

Although the wall of glass shook violently, the snake remained asleep. So, in frustration, Dudley pounded angrily and screamed, "Move!"

"He's alseep!" snapped Harry.

Dudley rolled his eyes and muttered, "He's boring." He waddled away, followed by Petunia and Vernon.

Harry turned to look at the awakening snake, mumbling, "Sorry about him. He doesn't understand what it's like, lying there, day after day, watching people press their ugly faces in on you."

Suddenly, the snake raised its head a bit and, astonishingly, winked. Harry's face flushed in embarassement; no one had ever winked at him before. He winked playfully back, pursing his lips. "Can you hear me?" he asked in a flirty voice.

The serpant nodded once.

"It's just," breathed Harry, leaning in, "I've never talked to a snake before. Do you talk to people often?"

He shook his head.

"You're from Burma, arent' you?" asked Harry, trying to impress him with his knowledge. "Was it nice there? Do you miss your family?"

The snake gestured with his head toward a nearby sign that read "Bred in captivity".

"I see. That's me as well. I never knew my parents either," he said, pushing out his lower lip. He paused and flipped his hair dramatically. "So, I must say, out of all the snake's I've seen, you're the longest and thickest."

The reptile blinked.

"It's true," giggled Harry. "You look so..._firm_. I'd just love to take you and put you-"

"Mummy! Dad!" shouted a voice from nearby. "Come here! You won't believe what this snake is doing!"

At that moment, Dudley came running up to the glass, knocking Harry to the ground in his hurry. Harry lay there, anger building inside him. He had been having a fantastic conversation, and he could feel a real connection forming. He was going to build up to asking the snake on a date, but Dudley had interrupted his plans. Dudley, who was now ignorantly climbing on the handrail and smashing his face against the glass, had ruined his chances at ever doing anything with the serpant.

It was then that the glass disappeared completely, sending Dudley tumbling into the small water tub in the exhibit. The snake immediately began slithering out and onto the floor beside Harry, who grinned hopefully at him.

"I'm taken," he hissed. "But thanksss."

Harry frowned and muttered, "Any time." He watched it slither away, nipping at a few shrieking pedestrians.

Meanwhile, Dudley was attempting to climb out of the exhibit, but he found himself smacking into a glass wall. He tried again and again, but finally processed that he could not get out. So, in sudden fear, he began banging on the barrier, screaming, "Mum! Mummy! Help me!"

Petunia screamed and rushed the her son, hitting the glass and yelling, "My darling boy! How did you get in there? Who did this? How did you get in there? Is there a snake?"

Harry chuckled, but halted immediately when he saw Vernon, who had been knocked out of his wheelchair in all the commotion and now lay on the ground, unable to move, glaring at Harry with a bright red face.

A few hours later, Harry found himself pushing Vernon's extremely heavy wheelchair through the front door of Number Four. Petunia hurried past them, hugging Dudley, who was wrapped in a blanket and was shivering uncontrollably. Once Harry reached his cupboard, Vernon shoved him inside. He grabbed a nearby umbrella and began beating the child until both nostrils bled and he had a considerably large gash on his head.

"What happened?" roared Vernon between smacks.

"I swear, I don't know!" whimpered Harry as his glasses fell to the ground and snapped in half. "One minute the glass was there and then it was gone! It was like magic!"

Vernon's face was the exact shade a tomato, and he looked as though he was either about to lunge at Harry or he needed a bathroom very badly. He pushed himself back from the door and slammed it shut, locking all twenty locks. He leaned forward and hissed through the tiny opening, "There's no such thing as magic!"


End file.
